


Prophecy Girl

by jasperjordam



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Buffy the Vampire Slayer References, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-19 21:14:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9460643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasperjordam/pseuds/jasperjordam
Summary: An Alternate Universe for The 100 characters, where Clarke Griffin moves to Sunnydale after finding out her legacy as The Slayer. Most of the storyline is concocted from both universes yet is something completely different within itself. Humour, action, death, harsh realities and ships galore. If you haven't seen Buffy, that's okay!! The jist is a teenage girl slays vamps and the only character mentioned from the Buffyverse in this is Wesley who is easily googlable. Please give it a chance!- EXCERPT -That new girl seems cool,’ hyperactive Jasper Jordan decided as he bounced on his heels, waiting for his companion to be finished with his locker so they could head to third period.Finn frowned as he took his history textbook out of his locker and closed it, leaning back up against the metal and squinting a little at his friend. ‘New girl?’‘Haven’t met her? She’s about yay-high,’ Jasper gestured to the middle of his long chest – anything higher than that alongside his body made a girl a lanky monster. ‘Blonde, blue eyes, sort of smells like something pine-ish and mint-ish.’‘You know what she smells like?’





	1. Dust to Dust

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting the first chapter now in hopes that someone will take a liking to it and want to read more. I've got the first four chapters already written and the story line almost completely planned. If no one reads it etc. idk what I'm gonna do because I'm waaaaay too deep in this emotionally to just drop it YIKES. There's nothing real shipp-y in this first chapter, but I've never written a fight scene or anything like this tbh and I've been writing my whole life. Basically this whole thing is one big chapter. I PROMISE THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE POSTED IN A FEW DAYS AND WILL HAVE MORE CHARACTERS POPPING IN OKAY 
> 
> ps. if i've made any grammar, spelling etc. mistakes please lemme know and i will fix it. more ships will be added as the story goes on and i'm peeing cause y'all ain't ready. 
> 
> tumblr: morleys  
> twitter: @jasperjordam

Clarke had just _killed_ someone.

 

She remained where she was – kneeling with her head bowed down as she stared at her hands. The only things remaining to note the person’s existence were the tree branch with a pointed tip that she had used to plunge deeply into their chest, the open wound on her cheek that was no longer stinging and dust. She stayed kneeling over the pile of what remain; her stomach wringing with guilt and her hand clutching the branch so tightly that she could feel her palm bleeding as she snapped the thick neck of it with ease. Her body was screaming in shock, yet she remained silent. Moments ago, she had witnessed something that she was sure was going to change her life forever – not in the way that she was going to become some kind of hero but more so in the way that she won’t ever spend a day not thinking of what it was like to hold someone’s life in her hands and mercilessly plunge into it and tear it apart until there was nothing left.

 

***

 

 _Clarke was met on the way home by a man who had to jog to keep up beside her strides, trying to speak urgently about an apparent “end of the world” crisis where she was the only one left to help. She scoffed, wondering how many times he had said the same thing to other girls walking home by themselves at night. He told her that his name was Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and she couldn’t help but let out a bark-like laugh, like she would even_ believe _his shoddy English accent to begin with. Clarke had decided to cut through the cemetery in hopes that the atmosphere would spook the creep so much that he would decide she was crazier walking among graves than he was talking about the end of the world. That was when they were met by a towering figure, who Clarke believed was probably in on this whole gag. She swung around to look back at Wesley who had let out a yelp when the figure had appeared in front of them and he had oh so graciously hid behind a grave marker._

_‘Is this how you get your kicks? Luring pretty blonde girls into grave yards and-!” Around the same time that Wesley had taken out a wooden cross was when a strong arm had wrapped around Clarke’s neck, pulling her into an equally as strong chest._

_Thankfully for Clarke, her high school was very vocal about what could happen to a teenage girl on her own. They had set up a self defense program a year ago where they were taught the basics. On her first try when it came to her partner coming up to her from behind her, Clarke had done as the teacher had instructed, but instead of a nice and swift – not to mention_ safe _– transition, she had thrown her partner over her and onto the gym mats in front of her with such force that he was actually found unconscious. For the rest of the week she had pretended she couldn’t even throw a punch, though her reflexes had screamed at her, telling her differently._

_She worked on her footing as her delicate hands first tried to pry the arm from around her neck, testing her opponent’s strength. Apparently he was just being easy on her, because as soon as she tried to fight back, he tightened his grip. She tried to scream out, eyes wild as she felt her wind pipe closing under the crushing pressure. Wesley was in front of her, yelling at her to use something called “Slayer strength”. She glared at him from where she stood with eyes stinging as she struggled for breath._ Is he for real _?_

_She had spent so long containing her strength that when it came to a time she would be best to use it, she didn’t know how to bring it forth. It was when her attacker lowered his lips to her ear and whispered that she felt rage screaming inside of her to be let out. She actually growled at him, gripping his arm tightly and swinging him over her. He was well over a foot taller than her and maybe twice her weight, but she done it with such ease that she was actually surprised._

_Her attacker was now on his back in the mud, and Clarke pressed her booted shoe into his chest, leaving a permanent muddy shoe print on his shirt in an attempt to keep him where he was. Her blue eyes darted around her, searching desperately, looking for something – anything – that could help her get out of the situation. Wesley yelled for her attention at the same time he threw something over to her general direction. But it was a wide throw; the item had dropped a few graves over, completely out of her reach. She looked back at Wesley with so much fury that she almost forgot what she was doing._

_The attacker had grabbed her ankle and twisted it hard to the left. She yelled in pain and dropped on top of him and for the first time caught a proper glimpse of his face. It wasn’t even a face – it was hardly recognizable as human. Even more shock poured into her, so cold that she felt her throat close up. The fear in her eyes had given her a brief moment of vulnerability which her opponent took in his stride. He grabbed her by the shoulders and rolled the two of them over, pinning her hard down into the mud and grass. She tried to fight him off, but because her mind was anything but clear, she couldn’t think properly._

_Wesley was screaming at her to stake the person that obviously had the upper hand right now._ Stake? What? _She stared around her on the wet grass for a steak, thinking that this guy was definitely crazy if he thought she could throw a steak and the brute would chase after it like some dog._

_Caught between gulping breaths, her attacker gripped her throat tightly in his large hands and she was left yet again trying to fight for air._ Who plans on attacking a girl but doesn’t bring a weapon? _She squeezed her eyes shut; trying to think of what she could possibly do to make this situation any better. Or maybe she was just supposed to accept her fate and stop breathing for the sake of not having to fight back. The school had taught her everything_ but _what to do if an attacker was over you and choking the life out of your lungs._

_But she remember what he had said to her, what he had said that ignited so much fire in her stomach that it made her fight not because she wanted to be able to leave alive – but it made her want to fight so that she could hurt him._ Bad _. The yearning to hurt someone beyond all means was foreign to Clarke, it didn’t settle right in her. She shut out everything and thought only of his words until she was so angry she felt like she set out a fire in her and there was nothing left by burnt up fear. Her body fell limp beneath her attacker and she left her eyes closed._

_Long enough for him to remove his hands with a smirk, leaning down into her. Then her eyes shot open, startling him. She twisted her body enough to get her knees to her chest in the small space between them, resting her feet flat on his broad chest. Then she pushed. And he was sent flying into a gravestone, splitting the hard rock in two and falling back onto the ground behind it._

_‘The branch! Clarke, get the branch!’ Wesley had screamed at her like_ he _was the one who nearly died more than once in the space of fifteen minutes._

_She rolled her eyes and did what he had said, grabbing the medium sized branch beside her and ripping off the smaller branches that were sticking out of it sides, feeling her palms cut open – making one long, thick and sharp weapon. Then the moved quickly, jumping over the gravestone and onto the attacker, pinning him onto the ground using her legs and lifting the branch above her head, ready to throw it down into his body._

_But she froze._

_All of his features were sharpened, more than the average person. His forehead had furrowed into his nose, so much that it created deep, menacingly arched brow bones. His eyes looked like those of a black cat – yellow and piercing - with the ability to make anyone feel unsafe instantly. His upper lip was curled and Clarke noticed the most bizarre thing about him – his teeth. They struck fear right into her when she realized that if she had lost the fight, he would have easily ripped her throat out with little to no effort. She was right – nothing about him was human. Not the contortion of his features, his strength, how cold his body felt against hers or how pale he was. He was like a floating ghost, almost translucent but with teeth – very sharp teeth._

_‘They will kill you, you know; if not me, the next and if not them, then someone else. We will never stop coming until you are dead. They always get killed in the end…_ always _.’ Her attacker snarled._

_It was as if someone had tipped a bucket of ice cold water over Clarke. What_ could he possibly mean? _She stared down at him, confused as he stared back up at her with a grin. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was laughing. Wesley had been yelling this whole time and he wasn’t heard until now._

_‘Through the heart, Clarke! It’s the only way. He isn’t_ human _.’_

_She stared between Wesley and the attacker who seemed to surrender beneath her. She stared at him, long and hard. He extended a hand and brushed the hair out of her face, tracing a long and sharp nail across her cheek, breaking through the skin enough to make her bleed. She felt herself recoil and shudder from his touch, feeling violated and unclean instantly_

_‘They will kill your mother, as well.’ He cooed like a lion to a lamb, still grinning widely – catlike._

_That had been the last string for Clarke. Everything that was stopping her from killing him has been extinguished when he had threatened the life of her mother. With his smile wide and his eyes trained on her, Clarke hurled the branch down – squeezing her eyes shut because if he happened to be human, she couldn’t watch._

_The branch rammed through skin, bone and organ and Clarke had opened her eyes just in time to watch the bizarre process. His skin had turned hard, cracking until it was nothing but dust. Then beneath that, so did his muscles, then his organs, and lastly his bones. But even once he was a pile of dust in the grass, Clarke could still see his grin – she could feel its presence. She was sitting over nothing, holding the branch in the same place where she had plunged it._

 

Wesley was talking to her, but Clarke was only listening enough to catch some words: “ _Chosen One_ ”, “ _The Slayer_ ”, “ _Ancient Prophecy_ ”, and “ _Vampires_ ”. It was too much. She dropped the branch on the grass in front of her and stood, not interrupting Wesley who seemed very happy with himself. She moved her bloodied hand up to her cheek, touching her cut and pulling it away to see fresh and dried blood mingling on her fingers. She didn’t even look up at Wesley as she turned and picked up her messenger bag that had been forgotten in the scruff – he was too busy exclaiming happily about being there to witness her first kill. She held her bag to her chest and began to walk home.

 

When she reached her front door, Clarke knew how she must have looked. There was dry mud all over her, in her hair, up her back and on her knees. Then there was blood on her cheek and on her hands. She realized that after killing someone, she’d expected there to be more. She stepped inside of her home, dropping her bag down beside a half full cardboard box.

 

Her mother was in the living room looking over paper work from the hospital, still in her white coat with her glasses on and her brown hair pulled back.

 

‘Clarke? Honey?’ Abby called out, not waiting long enough for a response before she continued to talk. ‘You wouldn’t believe the news I have. I was at the realtor looking at new houses and the kindest man recommended Sunnydale. He said that the high school there was great and it’s definitely a nice change from Cali. I was like hey, what have we got to lose? I left a brochure of the high school up on your bed. Who would have thought a great hunky Brit was going to help us choose our new home?’

 

At the mention of a Brit, Clarke’s stomach lurched and she thought she was just about to throw up. There was no doubt that there was any coincidence that she met Wesley – a Brit  – the same day her mother met one unless she was just being paranoid. Though, Clarke’s gut feelings were almost never wrong. She swallowed hard and began her ascension up the stairs to her room. Abby poked her head out of the living room.

 

‘And Clarke?’ She was staring right up at her daughter but didn’t seem to take any notice of the blood and mud.

 

‘Yeah, mom?’ Clarke answered weakly.

 

‘My earrings.’

 

Clarke stood on the landing and frowned – was Abby not looking at the same Clarke that she saw when she looked down at herself? But nevertheless she reached her hands up and touched her ears, feeling her mother’s earrings and smiled knowingly.

 

‘Yeah, I got it.’

 

‘Thanks, baby. Now head to bed, we have a big week coming up.’

 

She had nodded at her mother’s advice, but instead of heading to bed like she would normally do; Clarke went to the bathroom and stripped off her muddy clothes as she bath ran – throwing her jeans, blouse and jacket into the trash can in her bedroom but leaving her boots by her door.

 

Then when consumed by the warm water and bubbles, Clarke examined her body. Now with the blood washed off of her hands and the heated light shining down on her, she saw no wound and in the mirror she saw her cheek stopped bleeding and there was only just a closed scratch left. She examined her shoulders and arms, noting some bruises. She lifted her legs each from beneath the surface and ran her hands up her calves, pushing the bubbles off her. Her ankle, although she felt no pain, had been covered in black bruises.

 

She tried to relax, leaning back and closing her eyes. Every time she did, she saw her attackers face, heard Wesley’s words and remember what the man had said to her. His words, unlike how he had spoken them to her were a whisper in her ear. She could imagine him standing behind her, lips against the shell of her ear as he spoke, taunting her with his hot breath on her neck and his hands moving from where they rested on the lip of the bathtub to her shoulders, his claws cutting into her skin deeply – leaving wounds that were leaking blood down her chest and into the water that now felt as if it was running cold.

_“‘They will kill you, you know; if not me, the next and if not them, then someone else. We will never stop coming until you are dead. They always get killed in the end… always…”_

_“They will kill your mother, as well…”_

 

Clarke allowed him to plunge her down under the water and stayed there.

 

\---


	2. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I JUST WANTED TO SAY THANK U FOR THE SWEET RESPONSE TO THE FIRST CHAPTER !!! i can't believe like more than one person read it and gave it kudos and bookmarked it etc. that's insane and scary because i'm no way at all good at this. but, show day is coming up so i better get to popping these babies out. soooo this chapter is mainly clarke x abby interactions, clarke doing a scary google search on vampires and then the griffin girls heading off to sunnydale. enjoy!! ps. it would be cool if you could comment your thoughts on prophecy girl so far, i love feedback.

 

Clarke awoke aching the next morning in bed, suddenly now more aware of the bruises that riddled her body than what she was the night before. She climbed out of bed and pulled on a robe that covered any evidence of bodily damage whilst she was having breakfast with her mother. That was when she had pleaded her case to stay home for the day.

 

‘Why on Earth would you want to be _home_?” Abby Griffin scoffed as she spread medical files across the island bench, almost tipping her coffee over the pristine white paper. ‘You were just complaining last week that you wanted to be spending time with your friends here before we move.’

 

If Clarke were to disagree and urge her mother that she didn’t say that, she would be lying. Just last week she had wanted to soak up the rest of Cali – for every last drop it had. But now she felt different. Things were different. She leaned her back against the fridge as she poked at her cereal, having not even eaten anything she had just poured a bowl up for herself for the sake of having something to do with her hands.

 

‘I know. But now that you’ve told me we now have a new house ready for us, it makes the whole thing a lot more _real_.’ She hated to lie to her mother, but as long as she steered away from what she _really_ wanted to do whilst her mother wasn’t home, she would have a clearer conscious. ‘I want to pack some of my stuff.’

 

‘You hate packing, Clarke.’

 

‘I hated it when I was eight, but ten years of self growth really does change a girl’s perspective on packing boxes.’

 

‘Nine and a quarter years.’ Abby noted, peering over at Clarke. She was still in the denial stage of accepting that Clarke was almost an adult. 

 

Abby stared long and hard at Clarke as if to make sure that her daughters intentions were pure and she wasn’t planning on having one of her usual days off shopping and talking to boys at the mall. She couldn’t seem to find any flaws in Clarke’s motives and she pushed her glasses onto her head and began stacking her folders.

 

‘I can’t stay around long enough to argue, I have too many loose ends to tie at the hospital before I transfer. So you can stay home, but if most of your room is not packed you are definitely not going to be retaking your drivers test on your birthday.’

 

Clarke slouched at the defeat. ‘Okay, deal.’ She decided as Abby thrusted her work into her bag and grabbed her car keys.

 

‘That’s what I like to hear.’ Abby hummed, leaning over and kissing Clarke’s temple. ‘Are you making dinner or will I be bringing it home?’

 

‘I don’t see the point in breaking the pizza and packing tradition.’ Clarke chimed as she moved to the trash can, scraping her whole bowl of cereal and milk into it when Abby’s back was turned.

 

‘Pizza sounds good.’ Abby grabbed her pre-prepared travel mug and went to leave the kitchen before she stepped back and dropped the newspaper that was tucked under her arm onto the nearest bench. ‘I bid you farewell, my fair daughter.’

 

‘Drive safe!’ Clarke called out to her mother as she heard the front door close.

 

She gazed around the kitchen for a few moments, looking at the few half packed boxes in the corner with a sigh before her eyes were caught on the newspaper on the bench. _Don’t kid yourself, it wouldn’t be in there. The body was a big pile of dust. You’re_ not _a murderer._ The logical voice in Clarke’s head urged, but she still found her fingers prying open the pages on the island.

 

When she reached the last page, she had sighed in relief. There was nothing at all that had anything to do with what happen last night. Immediately she already felt better than what she did when she woke up – like a big weight had shifted off of her shoulders. Clarke sighed and folded the paper up and dropped it into the trash can.

 

For the rest of the warm day, Clarke had balanced several things throughout the hours. She’d done as she promised her mother and had began to pack her things, bidding farewell to childhood relics that she forgot she even had, knowing full well that she would continue to forget about them until they were in the new house and she had finished unpacking them and finishing the last homework assignments that were given to her at school. What Clarke had also done was what she didn’t want her mother to know about. She had snuck into the study which was all packed up except for a few medical books and files her mother needed and a desktop computer sitting on a dark wood desk.

 

When she sat in front of the screen and the old computer creaked to life, Clarke wasn’t sure what she had wanted to do. She stared at the countless files on the desktop, most being her mother’s medical manuscripts – all great but never published. It had been months since Clarke had used the computer and she was half expecting to find a folder of her father’s. But she understood that Abby would have gotten rid of it long ago since it would be too much pain to log on and have the very thing that drove away your husband staring you right in the face. Or maybe her father had done it himself. As per usual, she convinced herself that she was over everything that happened and had pushed the thoughts out her head.

 

She opened a new internet window, opening up a browser. For a long moment, Clarke’s fingers just hovered over the letter keys on the keyboard unsure if she wanted to delve head first into the very thing that was staring back at her the night before. Dark and cold. Dead. But she pushed forward and searched for only one word:

 

**GOOGLE SEARCH**

 

Vampire

 

  **SEARCH | I’M FEELING LUCKY!**

 

Immediately, once results began loading, Clarke had fished around in a cardboard box beside her and found a leaf of lined paper and a pencil to write with. She knew it was crazy and she understood what would happen if she shared her concerns with anyone – especially a trained medical professional like her mother. But the more links Clarke chose, the more things made sense.

 

Abby had moved upstairs in an attempt to locate her daughter, finding her bedroom filled with more cardboard boxes than personal items, she was pleased although Clarke was no where to be seen. She furrowed her brow, thinking that she had been wrong to trust Clarke with a day on her own, but her dread was lifted when she heard movement from the study. She thought she was crazy – there was no way Clarke would be in there, she hadn’t been for months.

 

Clarke was just coming out when her mother was moving into the study and they collided on impact. Gathering her thoughts and holding her research to her chest, Clarke feigned a smile. ‘You’re home!’

 

‘I am. And you’re…’ Abby frowned and took the piece of paper from her daughter’s fingers; studying it for a few moments and raising her eyebrows as she passed the paper back, laughing. ‘The “Chosen One”? Vampires?  “The Slayer”?’ She inquired, sounding more skeptical with every jab of the words.

 

Clarke didn’t like to lie to her mother.

 

But with what she read about today, she couldn’t risk getting her mother involved in something that was bigger than the both of them.

 

‘Creative writing!” She exclaimed with a nervous laugh. ‘After reading the Sunnydale High brochure you left me, I thought it might be worth investigating some of their extra-curricular activities. I mean I’d be new, what better way to make friends? I decided I should start practicing my writing now if I want to keep up with the fiction snobs.’   

 

Abby gasped, swelling with pride as she rested her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, grinning from ear to ear. ‘Look at you, all ready to go! See, I told you. Change is good!’

 

‘It’s great.’ Clarke forced halfheartedly as Abby pulled her into a tight hug, the paper of information crinkling against her chest.

 

 _Change is good; all kinds of change. Change in character, change in surroundings… It’s good… Even if it might kill you._ Spoke the voice in the back of her mind, as though invigorated with the thought that finally… finally change is coming.

 

***

 

One thing that was indiscernibly consistent on all roads to Sunnydale was the fact that the rain, hard wind and gray-almost-black clouds seemed to have followed the Griffin girls from their old home on their car ride to their new one. Spring was having a very hard time of letting go of what remained of winter – her flowers were in bloom, vibrant and colorful whilst she was coaxing the last out of winter’s body until the only rain that was able to fall was no longer whole and the wind sounded like winter whining in protest with every blow.

 

Clarke couldn’t have chosen any other weather herself that seemed more fitting than this – she always preferred rain over sun and it showed on her skin. Abby however deemed the weather was better for other reasons besides the idea that with the down pour, Clarke would have no choice but to participate in good old Mother-Daughter bonding.

 

‘C’mon, you don’t get it?’ Abby said with a small frown as she drove on the freeway.

 

‘I told you mom, I get it but you’re just reading into it way too much.’

 

‘As an art student, I thought reading into things was your forte. Besides, I haven’t done nearly as much reading as you’ve been doing lately.’ She gestured to the books that were sitting in Clarke’s lap.

 

Pushing the books in a neat pile on her lap and fixing her sketchpad on top to hide the title of the first book she had, Clarke frowned a little. ‘So you’ve noticed?’

 

‘Of course I have. You’ve done more reading than you’ve done socializing. And that’s new.’

 

‘Okay fine, you’ve made your point. Maybe this…’ Clarke gestured crazily in order to note the weather ‘This _is_ a whole symbolic thing for the fact that we are moving to _Sunny_ dale and the rain that was our lives before now is finally starting to clear up.’  

 

‘Thank you.’ Abby chimed, moving a hand to turn the knobs of the radio which was serving as background noise on their road trip.

 

Thankful for the end of the discussion that was starting to rear its head at Clarke’s sudden interest in books; she opened her sketchpad tentatively, being sure to turn it away from her mother’s gazing eyes. The first few pages of the pad were usual Clarke-esque drawings of people at cafes, on trains and some of her friends. As she neared the most recent sketches of hers, she became hyperaware of the fact that if her mother tried, she could see the ghastly drawings.

 

Clarke had only been able to draw the only thing that she could think about – Vampires. Her dreams were vivid, retelling of her experience at the graveyard in a non-stop loop until she had let the attacker kill her by staking her instead, then she would wake up. The more she relived that night, the more the features of her vampire attacker came naturally to her hand – to the point that whenever she was trying to draw people smiling toothily or laughing, she began to give them fangs. She had sketches of him from different angles riddled in her sketchpad and even in her school notes, frightening passing teachers with her “ _wild imagination_ ”.  

 

With passes like that during her last week in California, Clarke had become evermore frustrated with her friends and the people around her. She saw them all as too careless, taking risks that could have made them someone’s next meal. She had to spend the last half the week explaining to her closest friend, Wells, that she had snapped at his offer of coming over to her house by himself at night to help her and her mother pack because she was just emotionally exhausted with the whole idea of moving, not because she legitimately feared that he would end up dead in a ditch somewhere. Or _worse_ , he will be perfectly undead as a vampire.

 

It wasn’t as if Clarke was actually emotional about leaving California and if she were, it was not as though she would have much choice in what was happening. She was in Cali for most of her life, and she did build a nice life there, but given the circumstances this was probably the best choice. Since her father was found out after threatening to expose the government for the wrong doings they were doing behind the public’s back and had been sentenced to life in prison for treason, Clarke and Abby couldn’t stay where they were.

 

The news about Jake Griffin had spread throughout the city, eventually coming back to them both in ways they didn’t believe it would. Abby had people who thought her husband was in fact a criminal banging on her office door at all hours whilst Clarke had dealt with other kids at school snickering at her whenever she passed by until someone had made a remark loud enough for her to hear and she snapped. She still felt as though she deserved to be expelled instead of suspended – the girl she attacked was still bald in the places where Clarke pulled tuffs of hair violently from her scalp. Both she and Abby had to endure weekends of cleaning rotten egg vigorously off the front of their home. It all had only just calmed down a month before they had decided they were best off to leave.

 

Clarke had only gone to see her father at the prison once (the only time Jake had requested her presence), before her mother forbade her to ever make contact with him again. Abby declined going to see Jake every time Clarke had pleaded her to be present for moral support. Apparently her parents had settled things long before he was arrested. It was awkward, having to talk to her father over a large round table where he was not allowed to go near her and had to remain on his side and had to still wear handcuffs. On the way home in the car, Abby was furious over the fact that Jake had let Clarke see him in the state that he was in.

 

‘Clarke?’ Abby pressed with her brow arched.

 

It was like something had wrapped itself around Clarke’s waist and yanked her back into the present. ‘Huh?’

 

‘I asked if you have decided on what room you wanted in the house.’ She said, leaning over the dash and tapping her finger on the booklet that sat on the dashboard in front of Clarke.

 

‘Oh, right.’ Clarke mumbled, shutting her sketchpad abruptly and grabbing the booklet and turning the pages in her lap, brows furrowed and bottom lip between her teeth. She remained silent for a long while, before pitching the idea she had been batting around in her mind to Abby. ‘Well, mom… You see I saw that the attic of this place was cleaned up and… It looks like there would be like zero bats and cobwebs -’ She started.

 

‘Clarke. The attic? Really?’ Abby interrupted, glancing over at Clarke for a brief moment. ‘There are plenty of nice, big rooms on the second floor that you can choose from. If you’re on your own floor how am I-‘

 

‘-supposed to monitor me whilst thinking that after all these years I wouldn’t have been able to notice you walking down the hall and stopping for long periods of time in front of my door listening to me and my friends? Here’s an easy answer: You don’t.’

 

‘Can’t you blame me? We hardly talk anymore Clarke; I need to have some way of making sure you’re okay. And I like having the piece of mind knowing you and Wells are actually _talking_.’

 

‘If you want to know if I’m okay, you could start with asking me.’ Clarke retorted, starting to feel the fire in the pit of her stomach being poked and prodded at. ‘And besides, if Wells and I _were_ to get up to anything I would be sure to keep it out of my own place.’

 

At that comment, Abby swerved the car, causing Clarke to lean over uncomfortably, yelling at her mom to keep her eyes on the road. She straightened up and then glanced at her daughter, shocked.

 

‘Gross, mom no. I wouldn’t do that with _Wells_. I’ve known him since we were like five.’ She assured Abby, but realizing it only made her mother’s expression worse she was quick to add: ‘And I haven’t done any of that with anyone so you don’t even need to worry. Scout’s honor.’

 

‘You never even got through Scouts. You always complained of the fresh air and the mud.’ Abby mumbled, obviously still hung up on the idea of Wells Jaha and her daughter on the other side of town not under her supervision.

 

‘That is beside the point, mom. Wells isn’t here and I won’t have any boys lining up to be in my bedroom.’ Clarke said, finding the page she was on in the booklet that had a colored photo of the attic and beginning to draw in her bedroom furniture. ‘And just imagine: you won’t have to clean the carpet in my room every other week to get charcoal and paint out of it. The attic doesn’t even _have_ carpet.’

 

‘Hey! Quit doodling in my booklet.’ Abby huffed, snatching the booklet out of Clarke’s grasp and throwing it onto the seat behind them.

 

‘Mom.’ Clarke pleaded.

 

‘Clarke, I’ll think about it. Just leave it, will you? Read your books.’

 

Clarke rolled her eyes at Abby, although she hadn’t planned to, she wound up doing as she was told after fifteen minutes of silence. She curled up into the passenger seat as Abby turned the radio on a little louder to fill in their non-existent conversation, opening one of her books on Vampire Folklore and beginning to read. Although it didn’t last long, soon she was dozing off, the rain starting to hit hard against the grass with the Classic Hits playing “ _Hello_ ” by Lionel Richie  filling the warmth of the car. She couldn’t wait to be home.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the show is coming back real soon so come talk to me on twitter @jasperjordam OR follow me on tumblr on morleys. don't forget to show me some love in order to motivate me to write more chapters because i'm barely ahead in the writing. ty.


	3. Home Sweet Sunnydale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the premiere has happened !!! bellarke did some things !!! jasper is alive !!! lets celebrate w/ my trash writing !! y'all are getting 2 chapters at once today so feel special.  
> follow me on twitter @jasperjordam to cry with me every week

_Clarke rolled over the mud and grass and onto her feet, feeling the cold earth shake her senses awake as her eyes darted around the dark cemetery. She managed to see her attacker just before he swung to hit her, broad back, toned with his fangs bared. She blocked his first hit then kicked him in the gut. He stumbled for a moment and then launched at her again. For the second time she blocked him, grabbing his wrist and twisting it the wrong way He let out a howl of pain and put his hand over hers – clutching it tightly, trying to pry off her grip and sinking his sharp nails under her skin. Clarke winced, letting go of his hand and again, kicking him in the stomach so he stumbled back; this time it was into a sharp branch that extended out to him from a tree trunk._

_As she spun around, she could feel his presence behind until she felt nothing at all._

_Suddenly another attacker came for Clarke, this time from behind, this time a girl with her arm wrapped tightly around Clarke’s neck. Instinctively she did what she had done in her first fight, throwing her opponent’s body over hers in a high arc and pinning her to the ground. Clarke then pulled a wooden stake out of the back of her jeans. Just as she was about to pierce the skin of the female vampire with the pointed tip of the wooden stake, she spoke._

_‘They will kill you, you know.’_

_Clarke staked the girl through the heart before she got to finish her statement and swung around as she was approached this time by two vampires – identical twins. They each grabbed one of her arms and pinned her against a mausoleum, her toes inches above the ground. She withered against their hold desperately, and again each of them spoke._

_‘If not me…’ said the vampire on her right._

_‘The next and if not them, then someone else,’ the vampire on her left was grinning._

_‘We will never stop coming until you are dead,’ they said in unison._

_Managing to get her arms free as the twins pinned her shoulders against the stone, Clarke grabbed the side of each of the twins’ head and then smacked them together. They both groaned and let her go and she dropped back down onto solid ground. She felt something appear strapped to her belt behind her back and when she took it and held it in from of her she was shocked to see what it was – a sword._

_She dodged both punches the twins had thrown at her and managed to escape their grip for the brief moment that they held her again before she used the sword to cut off one of their heads, then the next. She watched them dissolve into their own individual piles of dust._

_Her world began to warp and now Clarke was in bed._

_Though for the first time, she wasn’t alone. There was another body hovering over hers and she looked down at herself, her eyes wide when she noticed the lack of clothes. But her shock dissolved as the mystery man above her kissed her neck, and then his lips got caught on her collarbone. She ran her slender fingers down the groves of the warm flesh on his back, noting how_ real _this all suddenly felt._

_He pulled back to look at her, but his face was blurred and the only feature Clarke could make out was his brown hair that clung around the sides of his face as the sweat built on his skin commanded. She opened her mouth to ask who he was, but she felt his hands clasp around her neck tightly. Her lover leaned down to her ear, lips teasing the skin there as Clarke flinched, trying to get out of his grip. His words were like velvet, like he wasn’t sucking the air out of her but as though they were still making love._

_‘They always get killed in the end… always…’ His words sounded like a promise._

Clarke twitched awake as Abby had opened the driver’s door of the car. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up from her awkward position against the passenger window, scanning her eyes over the last page she had read in her book. It was a tale of twin vampires who wreaked havoc hundreds of years ago but now were presumed dead or at least hostile. She slammed the book shut and gazed out the window to where they were parked in front of.

 

She jumped when her mother appeared in front of her, hood of her coat over her head shielding herself from the light fall of rain, tapping against the glass and signaling Clarke to roll the window down. Clarke complied with both her eyebrows raised.

 

‘You’re up.’ Abby noted and then pointed behind her excitedly. ‘Look! _Home!_ ’

 

When Abby had moved to begin to unload the back of the car, Clarke’s gazed followed the line of where her mother had pointed to only moments ago. The house looked even more beautiful when it glistened with rain and the dark clouds behind it seemed to turn the volume up on its colors. It was an old Victorian-styled manor with the outer walls painted a “ _maroon-pink-brown-ish_ ” (Abby Griffin’s words exactly) color whilst the borders of the windows were painted white. Some windows had colored glass that matched the front door: a colorful rendition of the same roses that apparently were to grow in the garden. Clarke tilted her head up and began to grin widely – on the third and foremost floor she saw her bedroom.

 

Hastily, she undid her seatbelt and turned up the collar of her flannel to shield the sides of her face from the cold rain. As she climbed out of the car she tucked her books and sketchpad under her shirt and stashed her eraser and pencil in her back pocket. Clarke darted up the front stone steps as Abby had just unlocked and opened the door. She managed to step around her mother, apologizing under her breath as she began to climb up the stairs.

 

Two pairs of stairs (one notably shorter than the other) and Clarke reached the attic door. She felt excitement standing behind her, warm and pressing its finger into her shoulder multiple times to hurry her up - though she wanted to savor the moment. Deciding that two seconds was as good as any time, Clarke flung the door open and stepped into the large space.

 

It was just as it was in the photos. The high roof was strung with wooden beams that Clarke already decided would be laced with fairy lights to brighten it up, the floors were also made out of wood and she decided that within a week of settling in she would have it covered in paint and the window – the window was her favourite part. It was the biggest window in the house, taking up a third of the wall. It was circular and right in the middle surrounded with green glass leaves and a pink border was a large blue rose. She already knew it from the moment she stepped in: this was now home.

 

Clarke’s moment of pure amazement and joy was broken by Abby whistling lowly behind her. She spun around to look at the brunette with a wide cat-like grin, dropping her books on the floor in front of her and sitting down alongside them.

 

‘You’ve already fallen in love, huh?’ Abby questioned, leaning against the door frame while balancing two boxes. Clarke nodded eagerly in response. ‘And you probably won’t unpack until I say you can have the room?’ Clarke then shook her head in agreement, causing Abby to sigh and use a hand to massage her temple. ‘Okay, fine Clarke. But no boys. _Ever_.  You know what? Once we have settled in I don’t even want to _hear_ about boys.’

 

Clarke couldn’t help but squeal and stand up excitedly, moving quickly across her room to her mother and slapping a wet kiss on her cheek. ‘I knew you would come around!’ She cooed happily before she ran downstairs to help unload the boot.

 

Abby stood in the doorway, eyeing the room and Clarke’s books on the floor before she shook her head with a knowing smile. ‘Ask for a daughter and you get trouble.’ She muttered to herself before walking down the ten steps that it took to be on the second landing, now on the search for her own new room.

 

***

 

The Griffin girls had forgotten the things that came with moving across the states into an old home. Abby wasn’t able to get the heating or electricity on until she was actually in town since being an old house, those luxuries needed to be turned on manually and although they had just arrived it was already too late in the day to go barging into the power company’s office demanding light and heat in their cold and dark home. She also happened to forget the part of all her paperwork that said that although the house was in great condition and working order there was one problem that the new tenants must tend to: the fact that all running water came out cold and brown.

 

‘Apparently Sunnydale has been experiencing a lot of bad weather so the realtor said that during the worse parts of their overcast one of our pipes must have burst and is now welcoming mud and leaves galore.’ Abby groaned after finishing her call with her real estate agent, joining Clarke again in the living room/parlor they had halfheartedly decorated with candles. ‘But there’s good news.’

 

Clarke was taking the olives off of her side of the pizza and putting them onto her mother’s as she zoned out, thinking about the dream she had back in the car. She snapped out of it when Abby repeated herself, this time louder. ‘Huh? Good news?’

 

‘Alexei,’ Abby started, noting Clarke’s confusion before she continued. ‘It’s Russian or German – but our _agent_ gave me the number to someone who would be able to come fix it Monday. Apparently he’s one of the hunky, brooding types.’ On queue, Clarke made an over-exaggerated gagging noise and Abby pursed her lips. ‘What? Am I not allowed to be a cougar once in awhile?’

 

‘No boy talk, remember? I think it should now be extended to no boy talk for _either_ of us.’ Clarke said briskly, continuing to pick at the vegetables on her pizza.

 

‘If you’re not gonna eat the good stuff off the pizza I should have just asked for half all base.’ Abby said pointedly and Clarke looked up with her brows raised before shaking her head.

 

‘No, no. I’m just not hungry.’ She wiped the grease on her hands into her pajama pants. ‘There’s just too much excitement with moving and thinking about my first day of school on Monday…’ She trailed off before she gave her mother a big, forced smile when she began to look worried. ‘I’m good. I’m happy.’ She assured the brunette before she stood up, taking a candle in each of her hands. ‘I think I’ll just head to bed.’

 

“Bed” had become synonymous with the sleeping bag that she hadn’t used since she was twelve on the floor of her bedroom. Clarke turned and left the living room and began to climb the stairs, holding out the candles to light up the expansive darkness in front of her.

 

’What am I supposed to do with all this pizza?’ Abby called out and Clarke laughed a little.

 

‘Don’t act like you’re not excited to pig out, mom. Now: _goodnight._ ’

 

***

 

Clarke awoke the next morning with a bad back and already slightly grumpy. When she went into the kitchen looking for some sign of her mother, she had found a note that replaced Abby’s existence in the house entirely.

 

_Clarke,_

_Important work stuff came up and being new, I can’t risk giving a bad first impression. I know we were going to go shopping for some things for your bedroom today but it will need to be postponed until next week._

_Electricity Company will be by at 11 and I left some cash in one of your books for lunch. (“Vampire Folklore”?)_

_-Mom_

If Clarke were a thermometer, her Mercury would reach its peak, explode and spill over. She scrunched up her mother’s note and threw it in the trash – tucking Abby’s question about her daughter’s choice of literature in the back of her mind since it didn’t seem as important as being left in the dark by her only present parent. Since her father’s arrest, Abby had made it her mission to avoid Clarke up until two weeks ago. To Clarke, it seemed like her mother couldn’t stand her because she was the byproduct of her and Jake. Being the enclosed woman that she was, when she did stop busying herself and showering for hours at a time when she was home, she didn’t care to share with Clarke why she had been pushing her away for months.

 

Although she was sure to make the most of her day since most of the clouds had cleared up outside. She checked the watch her father had given her the time she visited him – it was only reaching 9am. Clarke dragged her sketch pad and books downstairs and sat on the front porch, nestled into the corner of the swing that hung onto the house. She first tried to draw pictures of people walking past the Manor – the mailman, a woman jogging, a gay couple and their dog – but none were turning out as well as she would have liked.

 

As she straightened out a fresh page and tried to sketch out the man that hovered over her in her dream who happened to be a guest star yet again in her dreams the night before, the Electricity Company’s van pulled up. Clarke didn’t budge, instead she gestured to the front door when the two men stared at her, confused on the porch. And when she had gone inside to get the money her mother left her to order take out for lunch, Clarke didn’t even offer them a drink or pay much attention to them at all. She just nodded at one of them who looked over his shoulder to find her walking past the doorway.

 

The Electricity Company came and went, leaving Clarke the bill to give to her mother. She was still sitting on the porch swing as the sun began to set and Abby had pulled into the driveway. She stepped out of the car, folders and handbag in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other, held out like a peace offering.

 

‘I come bearing gifts of strawberry cheesecake. Fresh berries on top.’ Clarke eyed the bag, feeling her stomach grumble as she glared at her mother. Abby sighed and made herself comfortable beside Clarke, sitting the cheesecake between them. ‘You’re upset.’

 

‘You noticed.’ Clarke retorted instead of biting her tongue like she usually did. ‘Why couldn’t you just decline? We _just_ got here. What could have been so important?’

 

‘Beside the health of the whole of Sunnydale? Apparently being the first female Chief of Medicine in a town requires some media attention.’ Abby shrugged.

 

Clarke’s eyes lit up and she looked over at her mother instead of staring ahead and biting down on her thumbnail – this was the first she had heard of her mother’s promotion. ‘Chief of Medicine? Really?’ She asked quietly.

 

‘Really.’ She said with a small smile, offering the cheesecake to the blonde yet again. This time Clarke accepted it.

 

 

\---


	4. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a wells x clarke flashback!! we meet jasper, finn, monty & octavia!! clarke's first day of school!! the squad is almost complete!! we must protect octavia in all of this fanfic i'm just letting y'all know. also, clarke's outfit in this chapter is based off the outfit buffy wore on her first day at sunnydale: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p0W2Mw-ofRg/UBnGBKosH9I/AAAAAAAAABE/9XwHwe_v7dw/s1600/tumblr_lgzal8oDp41qhnykxo1_500.png  
> follow me on twitter @jasperjordam to read me crying about jactavia not being reunited yet

_Wells Jaha stared intently up at the glow-in-the-dark stars that were tacked to the ceiling as his best friend – the intelligent, artistic, kind, popular, and gorgeous – Clarke Griffin unapologetically got changed in front of him. Sure, they’d taken baths together as kids and he had been to the beach with her and had seen her in a bikini but this was different. It felt intimate in ways they had never experienced together. He felt safer looking somewhere else that wasn’t her milky white skin._

_‘Is this really necessary, Clarke? You just showed me-,‘ he started._

_‘Necessary?’ Clarke huffed as she swatted hair out of her eyes and zipped up her skirt. ‘Wells, this is_ essential _.’_

_‘Essential?’ He now turned to look at her and he definitely was not ready for what he had seen. There was Clarke in all her glory – almost completely clothed and making an outfit look better than what it was on its hanger._

_She wore a maroon high-waisted skirt that hugged her hips and ended half way down her knee. Tucked into it she wore a white undershirt with a white button up, long sleeved, business-looking shirt over it all. It was cropped and she left it unbuttoned, the sleeves unceremoniously rolled up. She looked angelic with how her hair messily framed her face. She smiled at him and only then he realized his mouth was agape._

_‘What?’ She asked playfully with her hands on her hips._

_‘You look...’_ Beautiful, gorgeous, heavenly, amazing _, he had listed in his head. ‘You look good.’ Wells said lamely._

_‘It’s essential because on my first day at my new school I won’t be Clarke, I’ll be a new girl. I won’t be popular like I am here but I won’t be completely lame either. My first day is the day that decided what I will be.’ She stood in from of him now, the front of her legs touching his knees._

_‘You want to be liked.’ He summed up._

_‘Yeah, I do.’_

_‘If it’s any consolation, I like you.’ Wells assured her with a stupid grin as he reached out, fingering the hem of her skirt, his rough knuckled brushing along her bare thigh as he frowned. ‘Isn’t this a little short?’ He inquired, looking back at her._

_Clarke moved and sat down beside Wells, hands in her lap with her body facing his. ‘Totally dress code regulated.’ He chuckled at her as she demonstrated the fingertip rule as reassurance._

_Suddenly she had a serious look on her face as she looked at him and he asked what was wrong. She shook her head, tucking hair behind her ear. ‘It’s nothing. Just… I’m gonna miss hanging out with you like this.’_

_Wells reached out and touched her hand, squeezing it a little. ‘You’ll always have me,’ he offered._

_In that moment, everything was perfect. Clarke leaned forward and so did he. She looked down at his lips and back again to his eyes just as he had. She’d closed her eyes and he followed. It was like finally, after all of these years, one of Wells’ biggest fantasies was about to play out. He was going to kiss Clarke Griffin._

_‘Clarke, you can’t expect me to pack the whole house,’ announced Abby as she barged into Clarke’s room unannounced, cardboard boxes blocking her view._

_Wells jumped back on Clarke’s bed, hitting the back of his head on the wall and Clarke snapped around to her mother and immediately stood up to help her. Neither of them mentioned what had almost happened since. In fact, just as Abby offered to order pizza so as long as Wells kept Clarke in check, he decided to head home._

‘Clarke, you don’t have all day to get ready, you know.’ Abby announced as she came stumbling into her daughter’s room, dropping a box filled with all of Clarke’s old sketch books beside the door.

 

Jumping at the thud of books on hardwood floor, Clarke came flying back to the present. She stood in front of a full length mirror in her almost empty bedroom, her hands smoothing down the front of her outfit. White under-shirt, dress shirt and maroon skirt completed with her dark brown boots. The monster in her stomach was trying to crawl out of her. For the first time in a long time, Clarke Griffin was nervous.

 

‘I know, I’ll be ready in 10, promise. Waking up with my hair like a bat’s nest is not helping.’ She reached up and flatted her blonde hair, although after figuring it wasn’t working how she wanted to, she tied her hair up in a messy ponytail.

 

‘Isn’t that a little too much for your first day, Clarke?’ Abby moved into the view of the mirror, hands on her hips.

 

‘First impressions are key. I need teachers and students to sit back at the end of the first day and go: “ _That new girl seems cool_.”’

 

***

 

‘That new girl seems cool,’ hyperactive Jasper Jordan decided as he bounced on his heels, waiting for his companion to be finished with his locker so they could head to third period.

 

Finn frowned as he took his history textbook out of his locker and closed it, leaning back up against the metal and squinting a little at his friend. ‘New girl?’

 

‘Haven’t met her? She’s about yay-high,’ Jasper gestured to the middle of his long chest – anything higher than that alongside his body made a girl a lanky monster. ‘Blonde, blue eyes, sort of smells like something pine-ish and mint-ish.’

 

‘You know what she _smells_ like?’

 

He ignored Finn. ‘She’s from Cali and she’s coming this way right about now.’

 

Finn looked over at Jasper who had opted for slouching against the lockers beside him coolly, fixing his goggles atop of his head with a sly smile as he stared up ahead. He couldn’t help but follow his gaze, and he was glad he did because the new girl almost ran straight into him as he stood upright.

 

‘Fuck,’ the new girl muttered as she stumbled back, bumping into some passing students and dropping a slip of paper that made it’s way down onto the floor.

 

Crouching down, Finn had gone to pick it up at the same time she stomped on it to stop it from blowing away. He chuckled and wrapped his hand around her ankle, moving her foot off of the paper tentatively. He picked the sheet up and stood up; brushing the dirt from her boot off of it and trying to straighten it back out. When he looked at her finally, he felt like someone had just slapped him across the face. Jasper left out the part about them now attending Sunnydale High with a _goddess_.

 

‘Fuck? And they say first impressions are important.’ Finn grinned stupidly at her and although she seemed tense, she managed to smile back just enough.

 

‘Potty mouth.’ She apologized, looking over Finn’s shoulder with a small frown. She followed her gaze and looking behind him: there was Jasper, big ass smile across his face, staring intensely at both of them and listening hard to every word spoken. She shifted from one foot to another uncomfortably, leaning into Finn to whisper: ‘Does he listen to all of your conversations like this?’

 

‘He takes drugs.’

 

‘That explains a lot.’

 

Finn handed her back her piece of paper only after reading her name off of it – Clarke. ‘I’m gonna guess you don’t?’ She shook her head. ‘That explains a lot.’ He teased.

 

‘I’m Clarke, by the way.’ She directed this at Jasper as well, who didn’t exactly know how to take a hint, holding her hand out to Finn.

 

‘I know. I mean – I’m Finn.’ He took her hand and shook it with a wide smile.

 

Jasper’s hand popped out beside his and with his arm shooting out of Finn’s side, he put his large hand on top of theirs. ‘Jasper.’ He said enthusiastically. As she had pulled back her own hand, she had taken to fist bumping the tall boy with goggles.

 

His attention-span however seemed small because when he looked over Clarke’s shoulder he seemed to have completely forgotten about her. An Asian boy with soft dark hair and high cheek bones who was only a few inches taller than Clarke appeared and hugged Jasper, slapping his hand down on his back. They seemed to be close friend’s – if not that Clarke was sure they were lovers. She studied them as they rushed into conversation and did the strangest thing. In victory they both raised their hands for a high-five but neither moved their hand to meet the other; instead they high-fived themselves with their own hand, grinning at one another. Finn leaned into Clarke to whisper to her.

 

‘Monty Green: Jasper’s better half. All of Jasper’s logical thinking lies in the intelligent brain of Monty. Though, there isn’t really enough logic to go around for the both of them, so there have been questionable events that they have both taken part in. They’ve been best friends since they were in diapers. One of their first endeavors that lacked logic was when they were five and tried to light their neighbor’s garden on fire and actually succeeded. Monty is smart – like robot smart. If you ever need anything computer wise to be fixed or want to view your grades before they’ve been handed out, Monty is your guy.’ He explained in a hush tone to Clarke who couldn’t help but laugh at the craziness she has already encountered half way through the day.

 

‘Right. So Jasper is stoner guy, Monty is computer guy,’ she noted, pointing to each of them and then to Finn. ‘And you are?’

 

‘A friend.’ He beamed before gesturing down the hall as he began to walk, she followed. 

 

Finn had offered to walk Clarke to her next class when she had confessed that she was actually on a free period, so instead she offered to walk him to class. His history class was only a few doors down from his locker, but they had managed to make it seem like it was on the other side of the campus as they slowed their pace and Finn asked her about Cali. When they reached the door, she was a little down about having to leave the first friend she made at the school.

 

‘This is my stop - time for me to tame the children.’ He joked, opening the door and a rush of classroom noise flooded the hall. He was about to step in when Clarke stopped him.

 

‘You’re not a…’ _Teacher_ she thought, brows raised.

 

‘Apart of the faculty? Sadly no. I’m just your average hormonal teenage boy.’ He shrugged and stepped backwards into the room. ‘I’m surprised you’d think I am that mature, I must admit.’ He grinned at her before the bell rang above them and they said their goodbyes.

 

Clarke was then left in the silence of the empty hall; her head reeling at her first real contact with life on Sunnydale. It seemed that a completely alien land – the principal seemed to hate kids with a fiery passion, jocks howled like wolves every time she passed, girls began hissing whispers to each other in her presence like snakes and she just met probably the chillest guy there and his two friends. She didn’t know how her mother would take to learning that on her first day, Clarke had only made friends with boys.

 

Glancing down at her map that she was given that morning with her meeting with the principal, Clarke glanced around the hall trying to figure out which one exactly it was and how it fit on the map. After wandering the grounds for a long while she finally found one of the two places she was looking for – the girl’s bathroom. She stood in front of a mirror and sink, trying to tidy up her appearance. She couldn’t believe that _this_ was how Finn had met her. But her thoughts were shoved to the side when she heard soft sobbing coming from the only closed stall.

 

She frowned, bending down to look under the door, seeing a pair of worn out black converse twisted beside a backpack that looked as though it had been attacked by badges of motivational quotes and Boho prints. Surrounding the feet of the girl were tissues – a lot of them. Clarke realized that whoever she was, she had been there for a long time without anyone interrupting her. Her books at the library could wait, Clarke planned on making another friend – a girl.

 

She moved into the stall beside the Anonymous Crier’s, locking it behind her and putting the toilet seat down, sitting on top of it awkwardly as she listened to the sad sniffles and whimpers of the girl in the next stall. Gulping, she decided that the girl wouldn’t talk anytime soon unless Clarke did. 

 

‘This is some bathroom.’ Clarke noted out loud and the crying stopped abruptly. There was silence until a soft voice spoke.

 

‘It’s good as far as school bathrooms go – so long as you don’t mind the girl crying in her cubicle.’ Alas, the Anonymous Crier had spoken. Even further, she laughed a little.

 

‘I’m new, so I suppose I could get use to it.’ She said thoughtfully, taking some toilet paper and folding it in her hands thoughtfully as she gave the other girl all the time she needed.

 

‘I’m sorry this had to be your first Sunnydale High bathroom experience. It’s just – I don’t want to turn you off by the place but – there are some _mean_ people here.’ She sounded hopeless and Clarke could almost hear her welling up tears.

 

‘A girl has got to make friends some how.’ She shrugged. At that statement, the stall behind her opened and she heard movement outside and then silence. Clarke couldn’t help but smile a little as she stood up and stepped outside her cubicle.

 

The Anonymous Crier was not someone who you would think would spend her time crying in the school bathroom – let alone a girl who would be wearing worn sneakers, jeans and a band shirt. She had long brown/black hair that reached the middle of her back, wide eyes and a sharp jaw that Clarke envied almost immediately. This girl was one of the prettiest girls Clarke had seen in the school, the kind of beauty that just radiated off of her. She couldn’t help but also realize that the girl was so _tiny_.

 

‘You’re trying to be my friend?’ She asked, sounding shocked that out of everyone in the school, this new girl chose _her_.  Tears welled up in her eyes again – overwhelmed as she turned to the sink, wetting some TP and pressing the cold, wet paper under her eyes to minimize the puffiness.

 

‘Clarke.’ The blonde offered, pointing to herself before she moved to the sink beside the Crier, beginning to wash her hands. The brunette stopped, frozen for a few moments before she spoke.

 

‘Octavia.’ She stated, beginning to fidget with the TP in her hand before she looked at Clarke in the mirror. ‘Octavia Blake.’

 

Clarke felt her stomach drop to her feet. In her first few hours of being at the school, she had heard enough about the Blake Siblings in whispers to know about them. There were two children – half siblings – a boy and a younger girl. Their mother was renting out her body and was immersed in the small drug industry that was hidden in the town. She was a single parent; the two kids didn’t know who their fathers were. The youngest – the little girl – had lived in the basement for fourteen years of her life and had been taken care of by her big brother who was only 6 years older than her. Their mother committed suicide and when the police did an investigation they found the then tween girl – Octavia.

 

Her brother was over eighteen at the time, therefore he was able to be his sister’s parental guardian and for the first time Octavia was enrolled in school. Too smart for her age after doing whatever school work her brother had, Octavia Blake was set to graduate at the age of 17.

 

Beside the story of the Blakes, Clarke had only heard teasing directed at Octavia who had only been at the school for half a year. They would make jabs about how she was literally brought up in a basement like some kind of monster. Nothing was directed at her brother – Octavia was alone in the middle of a storm that was her school life.

 

Octavia was staring at Clarke, waiting for some kind of reaction to her name. It was a test to see if this blonde girl really wanted to be her friend or if she was just going to turn out to be someone who would exploit their time in the bathroom to gain popularity. The test was passed when Clarke smiled at her.

 

‘Octavia is unique. I like it.’

 

‘It’s Greek. Clarke is unique too.’ Octavia smiled, slowly gaining the confidence.

 

‘So, Octavia. I have this pesky thing I need to do at the library – apparently not being prepared with textbooks on your first day of school is just unacceptable. Could you lead the way?’ Clarke asked, tucking the map of the school that she had in her bag. 

 

At the mention of the library, Octavia perked and immediately became her usual bubbly self. ‘The library? I could do that. You see,’ her tone turned hush as if she was suspicious of someone listening to their conversation, ‘there is a hidden gem in the school’s library this year. I started going even before he showed up but I’ve become a frequent loaner since he arrived. The librarian this year is probably _the_ most glorious and gorgeous man I have ever seen in my life.’ She gushed.  ‘And the best part of it all? He is so smart and actually _listens_ to me when I talk.’

 

Clarke couldn’t help but give Octavia a sly smile, offering the smaller girl her arm who took it gladly as they headed out of the bathroom. ‘Well I suppose we have a date with our librarian.’

 

\---

 

 

 


End file.
